Concrete Angel
by JennyGranger
Summary: Harry goes to Hermione's house for the summer and finds out something he never knew. Something he never imagined.
1. Invitations

**Chapter 1: Invitations**

As her clocked blinked 3:00 am, Hermione Granger's pencil rolled out of her limp hand. She had fallen asleep about two hours ago while sketching, and didn't notice a snowy white owl fly through her open window. Hedwig dropped a letter on Hermione's head and landed next to her on her desk.

When Hermione didn't wake up, Hedwig started pulling at her hair. She groaned and opened her eyes, jumping slightly at the sight of the owl. "Hedwig!" she said in surprise, then she noticed the letter sliding down the side of her head. She picked it up and recognized Harry Potter's untidy scrawl. "What does Harry want? And at three in the morning?" She wondered aloud as she opened the parchment envelope and read:

_Dear Mione,_

_How ya doing? How's your summer going? Mine's awful as usual. I was wondering, if it's okay with your parents, is I could come over for the rest of the summer? Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaase? _(Hermione had to smile at that. How could she say no to it?) _I hate it here. I would go to the Burrow, but Ron's in Romania, visiting Charlie. I need to get out of here! Send your answer back ASAP!_

_Harry_

Hermione's immediate answer would have been yes, but she didn't know about her parents. She turned to Hedwig, who was still sitting on her desk.

"Well, I can't give you an answer right now," she told the owl, "I have to ask my parents, and if I wake them up at three in the morning, they'll kill me, so you'll have to wait until they wake up, okay?"

Hedwig hooted and flew out the window and perched in a tree for the night. Hermione stood in front of the window, allowing the cool July breeze play across her face.

She turned around and her eyes fell on the sketchbook she had been using as a pillow. The slightly smudged picture showed a little girl, around eight, with dirty, lanky curls framing her fearful and tearstained face. She was sitting in a corner while a shadowed figure stood over her menacingly. It was just a memory Hermione felt like she had to get on paper.

"Just a memory," she mumbled to herself as she closed the sketchbook and placed in the drawer, "A thing of the past. Just forget it."

She locked the drawer with the key on her bracelet and turned her lamp off. She figured she had better get some sleep if she had to think of a plan to sweet-talk her parents into letting Harry stay for the rest of the summer. Not to mention all the chores she had to do the next morning.

With one last look at the clock (it was around 4:15) she yawned and climbed in bed. She laid there for few seconds thinking about what would really happen if Harry came over. He would learn that they were more alike then he originally thought, for one.

Hermione glanced out the window and saw Hedwig, white as an angel against the navy blue sky. She flew in front of the nearly-full moon and disappeared momentarily, blending in with the white glow. The beautiful glow of the moon... so beautiful.

Before Hermione realized she had fallen asleep, she felt herself being shaken awake by her mother, Harmony.

"Hermione, sweetie, wake up."

Hermione groaned and rolled onto her stomach.

"Five more minutes, Mom."

"No, no more minutes. I already let you sleep in a half hour. Now, get up."

Hermione was suddenly wide awake. _Half hour!_

"But, what about Dad?"

"He was gone when I woke up, but I hope that won't mean he'll be home earlier. Now, come on. We'll be in big trouble with him if we don't get those chores done."

Hermione's eyes suddenly fell onto Harry's letter, still laying on her desk.

"Mom, could a friend from Hogwarts come and stay for the rest of the summer?" she asked cautiously.

"Which friend? Harry?"

"How'd you know?"  
Harmony just pointed toward Hermione's window. Hermione turned around and saw Hedwig sitting there, waiting for the answer Hermione had promised her.

"Can he?" Hermione pleaded.

"I don't know," Hermione said slowly, and Hermione knew she was worried about her husband, but she wouldn't give up that easily. Hermione fell down to her knees and looked up at her mother with her big, brown eyes, pouting and begging.

"Why do I even bother?" Harmony said, giving in, so Hermione jumped back to her feet, "I suppose he can, but you know what your father's going to do once he finds out."

"I know, but maybe he won't be as bad with someone else here," Hermione suggested, taking out a piece of paper and preparing to write her answer back to Harry.

"It's on your own neck, Hermione. Now hurry up. You've got chores."

"Mom, when should Harry come over and how should he get here? I don't think the Dursley's would bring him," Hermione asked, pausing in her letter.

"I don't know. Saturday, I suppose. In the morning if we can get away before Harley wakes up, we could go get him. Now, come on!"

"I know. Chores. Just one minute," Hermione said impatiently, and she finished her letter and tied it to Hedwig's leg. "Get that to Harry as soon as possible, okay?" Hedwig hooted in understanding and flew off into the early morning sun.

Hermione dressed at top speed (or just changed out of yesterday's clothes, since she slept in them) and went downstairs.

Later that evening, Harry Potter was still waiting for his best friend's answer. He had been waiting all day, and, now that the sun was going down, he was losing faith in receiving it today. He turned to get in bed, and he had just taken off his glasses when a snowy, white owl flew through his open window and fell with a soft _thump! _at the foot of his bed.

"Hedwig!" he said, jumping up to get the letter tied to his owl's leg. He placed his glasses back over his bright, bottle-green eyes, unfolded Hermione's letter, and read:

_Dear Harry,_

_My mom said yes! We can come get you on Saturday (morning?)! Sorry about the delay. Hedwig got here at three in the morning and my parents would kill me if I woke them up at that time. Anyway, can't wait for Saturday! See ya!_

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

Harry smiled and placed the letter on his desk next to Hedwig's cage, and prepared to go to bed. He figured he'd pack tomorrow.


	2. Concrete Angel

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Remember, I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling, and the song belongs to Martina McBride. Now on to the story!

**Chapter 2: Concrete Angel**

Hermione woke up Saturday morning at around six. She had to make her room at least half-way decent for Harry. She had been neglecting it lately because of all the work her father was making her do over the summer.

She spent about a half hour cleaning her room, and just as she made sure the drawer that held her sketchbooks was locked, Harmony came in and told her to hurry up if they wanted to leave before Harley woke up. Hermione quickly ran a brush through her bushy, brown hair (which did very little) and ran out with her mom. They had just reached the kitchen when a voice made them jump.

"Where do you think you two are going?"

Harley's voice rang out as they reached for their coats. Harmony moved a little to her left to protect Hermione from her father.

"We're going to get Hermione's friend who's going to be staying for the rest of the summer," she stated quite clearly.

"Did I say you could?" Harley spat at Hermione, who stepped out from behind her mother.

"No, but Mom did, so --" but before she could finish her sentence, Harley had grabbed her shoulder and threw her against the door, where she hit her eye against the doorknob.

"Harley, don't you have to go to work? _If_ you can call it work?" Harmony said scathingly to her husband, kneeling down next to her daughter.

"Fine, and bring your friend, but don't expect them to help you," and with that he left.

Hermione looked up after her father with a look of utmost loathing in her eyes. She had a dark purple bruise forming around her left eye.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" she heard her mother say, but all she could do was nod. She felt that if she opened her mouth, she would just scream. Not of pain, though, but of fury, rage, and hatred.

"Come on," after a few minutes, Hermione trusted herself enough to open her mouth, "we need to go get Harry."

Meanwhile, Harry was pacing back and forth in his room. Hermione had sent him another letter telling him she would be there in between 7:30 and 8:00, and it was a little past 7:30. He was glancing around his room, making sure he didn't forget anything.

At long last he heard a car pull up and looked out his window to see Hermione getting out of the passenger side of a black SUV. He was so glad the Dursley's weren't home. Uncle Vernon hated people with SUVs. (Not that he would like Hermione anyway.)

Harry leaned out his window and called Hermione's name to get her attention. She looked up at him and smiled. Harry noticed her black eye and made a mental note to ask her about it.

Hermione saw Harry disappear to answer the door, but she rang the doorbell (about five times) anyway, just to annoy him.

"Are you trying to give me a headache?" Harry asked when he opened the door.

"Maybe," Hermione simply stated, and laughed at the look of mock-annoyance on Harry's face.

"Just come help me with my stuff, _Hermy_," Harry said in a friendly manner, but received a thwack on the head for the nickname.

"Ow! What was that for!"

"You know perfectly well what that was for, Potter!"

Harry just laughed and showed Hermione where his bedroom was. When Hermione entered, however, he shut the door behind her. She looked at him with an almost fearful look.

"What did you do to your eye, Mione?" He asked.

"I-I tripped and fell, that's all," she tried to laugh the situation off, but Harry saw through her scheme.

"Okay. Now, what _really_ happened?"

Hermione mumbled her answer so Harry could only understand the first word.

"I'll what?"

"You'll find out," she said nervously, playing with the material at the bottom of her shirt, not looking at him, "when my dad gets home."

Hermione was spared hearing his answer when her mom honked the car horn, telling them to hurry up.

"Come on, then," Hermione said, hoping to steer the conversation out of these dangerous waters. She picked up one end of Harry's trunk and looked at him, clearly telling him to help her. After a few seconds in which Hermione could see a questioning, clearly concerned look in his eyes, he gave in. He walked over and picked up the other end of his trunk with one hand and Hedwig's cage in the other.

After a few difficulties getting down the stairs, they managed to get all of Harry's stuff in the back of the SUV. Harry and Hermione climbed in the back seat and Hermione noticed that her mom had put in a Martina McBride CD. Harry couldn't help but notice Hermione's behavioral changes when a song entitled "Concrete Angel" started;

_She walks to school with the lunch she packed._

_Nobody knows what she's holding back._

_Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday._

_She hides the bruises with the linen and lace._

_The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask._

_It's hard to see the pain behind the mask._

_Bearing the burden of a secret storm._

_Sometimes she wishes she was never born._

_Through the wind and the rain_

_She stands hard as a stone._

_In a world that she can't rise above._

_But her dreams give her wings _

_And she flies to a place where she's loved._

_Concrete Angel._

_Somebody cries in the middle of the night._

_The neighbors hear, but they turn out their light._

_A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate._

_When mornin' comes it'll be too late._

_Through the wind and the rain_

_She stands hard as a stone._

_In a world that she can't rise above._

_But her dreams give her wings._

_And she flies to a place where she's loved._

_Concrete Angel._

_A statue stands in a shaded place._

_An angel girl with an upturned face._

_A name is written on a polished rock._

_A broken heart that the world forgot._

_Through the wind and the rain_

_She stands hard as a stone_

_In a world that she can't rise above._

_But her dreams give her wings _

_And she flies to a place where she's loved._

_Concrete Angel._

As the song ended, Harry looked over at Hermione and was startled to see a tear rolling down her cheek. He reached over and placed a hand on her leg. She jumped, and Harry had the distinct impression that she had forgotten he was there. She looked at him and gave what she hoped looked like a convincing smile, but it disappeared as another tear made its lonely way down her face.

Harry was startled to see such fear in her eyes. It was more fear than he had ever seen before. More fear than when they saved the Sorcerer's Stone first year. More fear than when they saved Sirius third year. More fear than when Harry had seen Voldemort come back fourth year. More fear than he had seen in the Department of Mysteries fifth year. And even more fear than when Harry had gone off to defeat Voldemort last year. It scared him, that something could scare her so badly.

She turned away and wiped the tears from her face, but Harry didn't remove his hand from her leg.

"Here we are," Harmony said a few minutes later, pulling into the driveway of an old two-story country house.

They got out of the car and Hermione's eyes immediately fell on an old grey pick-up truck parked underneath the big oak tree. It belonged to her father. Harry followed Hermione's gaze and saw the truck. He also heard her distinctly say, "Oh no."

"What?" Harry asked her as they pulled his trunk from the back.

"My dad," Hermione said, and Harry remembered what she had said, back in his room, 'You'll find out when my dad gets home.'

Hermione helped Harry carry his trunk into the kitchen when her father's voice made them jump.

"YOU'RE LATE! YOU DIDN'T MAKE ME BREAKFAST! MAKE ME LUNCH OR GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

Harry saw Hermione flinch as though a whip had been brandished at her. Her voice shook when she spoke.

"Y-yeah, b-but, Dad --"

"No buts! Go to your room! You're grounded!"

He pushed Hermione to get her going, but knocked her down, instead. He then started kicking at her to get her to stand up.

"Get going, you damn slut!"  
Harry, horrified at the sight before him, jumped in to help his best friend. He knelt down next to her and helped her up.

"Come on, Hermione."

Harry carried his trunk and Hedwig's cage up to Hermione's room. He didn't want to force Hermione to talk, but if he didn't, she more than likely wouldn't talk about it at all, so he took a brave stab at it.

"Mione..." he started, but he couldn't think of what else to say. To his surprise, however, Hermione did speak.

"Harry, you don't have to say anything. I don't want to hear it."

It was not what he wanted to hear, either.

"What do you mean?"

But, instead of answering, Hermione just whimpered, and Harry noticed a slightly worried look in her eyes.

"Something wrong?"  
Instead of answering, Hermione bit her bottom lip and whimpered a little louder. Harry noticed she had gotten fidgety as well.

"Hermione, are you all right?"

"I have to go to the bathroom," she whimpered, sounding a lot like a two-year-old.

"So?"  
"So, I can't leave my room," Hermione sighed when Harry still looked confused, "My dad grounded me to my room, so I have to stay here. No matter how bad I have to go," she added looking away from him.

"But that's totally unfair!" Harry exclaimed, watching Hermione get more panicky by the second.

"Yeah, well, he's never really been fair to me, to tell you the truth."

"But Mione..."

"I can't, Harry!" and her tone told him it was final.

Please R&R! Thanks in advance!


	3. Leave Her Alone!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Remember, I own nothing except for the plot. Characters belong to Joann Kathleen Rowling.

**Chapter 3: Leave her Alone!**

For the next twenty minutes, Harry didn't say anything, even though he felt he should. Hermione had gotten a sketchbook out and was drawing something. He was very curious what, but she didn't seem to want to show him.

His thoughts were jerked out of imagining what was in Hermione's sketchbook when the light caught something on her cheek. A closer look told Harry it was a tear. She was crying. He knew he had to say something soon, or he didn't want to think about the consequences.

"Hermione..." he couldn't think of what to say to her. She just looked at him with brown eyes in which he could see nothing but worry and embarrassment.

"Harry, I ca--"

"Yes, you can! I know you can! You've never let anyone push you down. Not Malfoy, not Snape, and I'm not going to let your father! Hermione, I don't want to see you embarrass yourself."

For a second, she looked like she was going to argue back, but she just bit her bottom lip, thinking hard. She had two choices, but she didn't want either of them. It was either embarrass herself in front of Harry and never be able to look him in the eye again, or face her father. Finally, she decided on the latter of the two. She would rather have more cuts and bruises than lose her best friend.

Hermione closed and put down her sketchbook. She got up and walked over to her closed door, pausing only for a minute. She would have stayed there, but she could feel Harry's gaze on the back of her head, so she took a shaky breath and stepped out into the hallway. Much to Harry's dismay, she shut the door behind her, but he could still hear her footsteps on the hardwood floors since she was still wearing her tennis shoes.

Harry relaxed when Hermione finally gave in to his pleas and left, but that quickly passed when he heard her father's voice.

"I thought I told you to stay in your room!"  
"B-but, Dad, I had to--"

"I told you to STAY IN YOUR ROOM!"

Harry heard Hermione squeal as she hit the floor. He jumped up and went out into the hall. Harley's back was to him and Hermione was on the floor at her father's feet. Harry was horrified when Harley reached down and grabbed a handful of Hermione's hair.

"Get up and go to room!"  
He threw her toward her room by her hair, but she ended up hitting her head on the wall and fell to the floor once more. Harry couldn't take it anymore.

"Hermione!"

He ran over and placed himself in between his best friend and her own father.

"Leave her alone!" Harry yelled and Harley's face turned a shade of puce that could rival Uncle Vernon's.

"You stay out of this! This isn't your problem!"

"It is when it's my best friend you're abusing!"  
Harley looked at Harry as though sizing him up. Harry just braced himself for the attack he was sure to come, but received a shock.

"Fine," Harley said, "help her. See if I care. You aren't worth my time," and he turned and left.

As soon as he was gone, Harry knelt down next to Hermione, who had been laying at his feet the whole time.

"You okay, Mione?" Harry asked, tucking her hair behind her ear, uncovering a bleeding cut.

"I'm fine," she said, a little too quickly to be true, and she tried to get up, but cried out in pain and fell back down.

"No, you're not. Come on, roll over," Harry gently rolled her over onto her back (she had been laying on her stomach) and, just as gently, lifted her up and carried her to her room where he laid her on her bed.

"Harry, you didn't have to do that," Hermione said as Harry examined her face and arms, which were covered in cuts and bruises in various stages of healing. He avoided her legs even though she was wearing shorts because, down the back of her right leg, they were wet.

"Do what? Step in? or carry you to your room?"

"Carry me. Thank you for stepping in. There's no telling what he would have done to me if you hadn't," she said as she touched the cut on her temple, the familiar feeling of blood on her fingers.

Review please. Flames are welcome!


	4. Don't Tell Anyone!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Just a little warning before we get to the story. This chapter in my opinion isn't as good as the first three, so just tell me what to think. Maybe it's just me who thinks it's worse. Thnx! (Just a reminder: I own nothing  )

**Chapter 4: Don't tell anyone!**

"I'll be right back," Harry said, struck with an idea.

Hermione looked curiously after him as he left, but realized she laying on something hard. Wincing as she moved, she extracted her sketchbook out from underneath her. She was about to open it, but she heard footsteps, so she painfully reached over and placed it in her drawer, but she couldn't close it because it was too far away. After a few seconds, the pain was just too much and she had to give up. She fell back down on her pillow. She whimpered as she pushed her bangs back and felt the throbbing cut.

"Mione?"

Harry was back. With a small bowl?

"Hey, Harry," she said absentmindedly, looking at the sticky, red blood on the tips of her fingers.

"Everything all right?"

"I'm just tired of this. I'm just going to end up like the Concrete Angel, anyway. Why prolong it?"  
Harry knew she was referring to the song her mom played in the car, but he couldn't remember how it went. He knew it wasn't good, though.

"How did that go again?"

Hermione sighed and repeated the last verse:

_A statue stands in a shaded place._

_An angel girl with an upturned face._

_A name is written on a polished rock._

_A broken heart that the world forgot._

"Mione!" Harry was shocked that that was what she thought. "You're

not going to end up like that. I'm not going to let you. And if you just tell someone --"

"NO!" Hermione, forgetting her pain (momentarily), tried to sit up, but Harry pushed her back down, so she just propped herself on her elbows, "Harry, you can't tell anyone. I mean it!"  
"But, Herm--"

"No buts! You have to swear to me you won't tell anyone! SWEAR TO ME!"

Harry considered this for a moment. Hermione didn't seem to know what this looked like from an outsider's point of view. Harry looked at her. A almost-eighteen-year-old girl laying on her bed, bleeding from her right temple, cuts and bruises covering her body. It scared him to have her yell at him like that. Normally, Hermione was the sensible one, and Harry knew that if this was happening to him, she would want him to tell someone.

"Fine. I won't tell anyone," he said, but added strictly, "unless this gets out of hand. Then I'll have no choice."

"Fine," Hermione said in a defeated voice as her pain returned full-measure. She fell back onto her pillow, suddenly slightly dizzy.

Harry pushed her bangs out of the way and took a dishrag out of the bowl he had brought up. Hermione winced a little when he pressed it against her forehead, but the warm water felt good against her searing cut.

Good as it felt, the water running down the side of her head made her self-conscious. Her shorts felt ten times wetter than they had five minutes ago. She wondered if Harry had noticed them, yet. She opened her mouth to ask him if she could get up and change, but he put the dishrag over her mouth so she couldn't talk.

"Looking for these?" he said, holding up another pair of her shorts. She looked away from him in embarrassment.

She felt him take the rag off her mouth, but she didn't say anything. He helped her sit up, and she took her shorts from him, still not looking at him.

As she reached the door, he grabbed her shoulder. She finally looked him in the eye and Harry wasn't surprised to see that her face was more than a little pink.

"It's okay," he said consolingly, and did something that made her blush even more. He kissed her forehead, just to the left of her cut. "Now, go change," he said, giving her a little push to get her going.

Hermione, once again, stepped out into the hallway, but this time she heard snoring from the next room. Her father was asleep. So, as not to wake him, she slipped her shoes off and left them right outside her door.

Harry could hear her padding down the hall in her socks. A minute later she heard the bathroom door shut and the soft click of the lock.

He was just about to sit back down on Hermione's bed, when something caught his eye. One of the drawers in her desk was open. He looked inside and saw a stack of sketchbooks. He grabbed the top one and gasped as he opened it.

The first picture was of a little girl, around eight, with dirty, lanky curls framing her fearful, tearstained face. She was sitting in a corner while a shadowed figure stood over her menacingly.

Harry flipped through the sketchbook, and was shocked to see these pictures, all of the same little girl (who looked very similar to Hermione) in various positions of abuse and neglect.

A few minutes later, Harry heard Hermione coming back, but before he could put it away, a particular picture on the very last page caught his eye. It was of an adolescent boy, not the little girl. His face was in shadow, but he had dark hair that stuck up at the back. It looked vaguely familiar.

Before Harry could place it, the door opened. Out of reflexes, he hid the sketchbook behind his back, but Hermione could see the look of guilt which was written all over his face.

"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously, then she spotted the sketchbook, "You looked at that? How could you! That's private! Give me that!"  
She made a grab for the sketchbook, but Harry held it out of her reach.

"No, Mione..." he said as he flipped to one of the pictures, "What's this all about?"

"I-it's just a picture."

"Okay," he didn't believe her, but he didn't want to get her yelling again, so he flipped to the last page. "What's this about?"

Hermione just looked at him nervously.

So what do you think? I don't really care if you flame, but I do care if you're honest. Please and thank you.


	5. Confessions

Well, here's the next chapter. Hope you all enjoy. I own nothing.

**Chapter 5: Confessions**

"Well?" Harry asked, holding the picture just out of Hermione's reach.

"I-I drew that fifth year. After I found out the boy I liked didn't like me," Hermione mentally scolded herself for telling him, but, now that she had started, she _wanted_ to talk to him about this.

"Did he know you liked him?" Harry asked.

"No. I've known him for so long, I've just grown on him, and I guess I expected the same."

"How do you know he doesn't like you?" Harry asked, catching on.

"He kissed another girl. Right before Christmas."

"What was he like? Did you know him very well?" Harry wanted to know what Hermione thought of him.

"Oh, I knew him very well. Sometimes I knew what he was going to say, even before he did," Hermione paused and smiled for the first time since Harry came over, "And he was wonderful. He was nice, caring, sensitive (every once in a while), funny, and very brave."

"So he was in Gryffindor?"

"He was the spirit of Gryffindor. He was probably the bravest person to ever pass through Hogwarts. He was loyal, too. Always put his friends before himself."

In her reminiscing, Hermione didn't notice Harry get up and walk over to her. That is, until she felt his hand run through her hair.

"What would you do if I told you, you were wrong?" he whispered to her, causing shivers to shoot down her spine.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, suddenly aware of how close Harry's lips were to hers. She could almost taste his breath.

"I think you know exactly what I mean," was all he said.

Hermione didn't say anything. He was teasing her, and he knew it. He was trying to get her to make the first move, which is what she wanted so badly. She wanted, no, _needed_ to feel his lips on hers. She needed it so badly.

"_Help me_," she whispered and reached up and kissed him. It was a sweet kiss, and as soon as their lips touched, there was that spark in between them. They knew, at that moment, that this was how it was meant to be.

The only thought that was able to form in Harry's mind was Hermione's cry for help. He promised to her that he wouldn't let anything hurt her, and showed this by wrapping his arms around her tiny waist protectively, causing her arms to snake up and wrap themselves around his neck, deepening the kiss. Cho was nothing compared to this.

At first both their mouths were closed, but only too soon, Hermione felt Harry's tongue gently tracing her lips, asking for entry. She hesitated only a second, but was only too happy to oblige. Smiling against his lips, she opened her mouth and their tongues clashed. Harry's tongue was exploring her mouth, taking in every taste, every feeling, every wonderful, pleasing, perfect sensation. Their first kiss.

They broke apart (due to the need for oxygen) and neither of them couldn't help but smile. They didn't have to say anything, for they knew. They knew that they had to stay together for as long as they could. Possibly forever.

They jumped when a soft knock sounded at the door. Their arms had just returned to their original positions (at their original owner's sides) when Harmony poked her head inside the room to check on them.

"Dinner time, guys. And be quiet," she added and Hermione knew that her father was still sleeping.

When Harmony disappeared, the two teens turned back to each other. Harry once again ran his fingers through Hermione's hair, and whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her skin.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," he said, "Not now, not ever. Not Malfoy, Voldemort, and definitely not that bastard you call a father."

Hermione was shocked to hear her best friend call anyone that (except maybe Malfoy or Snape), but giggled all the same.

"Come on," she said, still smiling, "I'm starving. We missed lunch."

"You read my stomach, Herms," Harry said, opening the door and waiting for her. As Hermione passed, she just had to hit him on the head again for the name.

"Ow! That's the second time you've done that to me. Do I look like a pinata or something?"  
"No," Hermione replied, trying not to laugh, "but you're definitely sweet enough."

The next thing she knew, she felt Harry's strong arms around her and her feet left the floor, as he lifted her up like he was cradling a young child.

A/N:

R & R Please! I don't care of you flame. I just care of you're honest. TTFN!


	6. Back to the Beginning

Thanks to all my reviewers. And my best friend, Padfoot, who is spending the night at my house tonight. Anyway, I hope you all like this chapter. Enjoy!

**Chapter 6: Back to the Beginning**

The rest of the night passed without much turmoil. Harley woke up at around 8:30 when Harry and Hermione were getting ready for bed.

"That boy better not be sleeping in there!" He yelled and stalked off. Harry looked at Hermione, who just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"He abuses me, but he still doesn't trust me with boys," she said, once they heard the front door slam shut, causing Harry to smile and shake his head as well.

"Where's he going?"

"Work. I forgot, today he works for about two hours in the morning and about four hours tonight," Hermione explained, "It switches from day to day. Just one word of caution: Don't cross his path tomorrow morning."

"That's six words," Harry said, counting on his fingers, causing Hermione to throw her pillow at him. He caught it using his Quidditch reflexes, and just laid down on it and closed his eyes, as though to go to sleep.

A minute later, Harry heard Hermione utter something, but he couldn't understand what, so he just ignored her and continued to lay there. That is, until Hermione's pillow flew out from under his head.

He sat up, rubbing the back of his head, only to see Hermione (in her pajamas and sitting cross-legged on her bed) who had a look of mock-innocence on her face. Her wand was hidden (as in slightly sticking out so Harry could see it) behind her back. Harry would have bought her look if it hadn't been for her wand, and the fact that she was trying not to laugh.

With a playful growl, Harry jumped up onto Hermione's bed and started tickling her (he knew her weaknesses), but the more she squirmed, the more her shirt rode up, so Harry could see all the bruises and cuts on her stomach and lower back.

"Hermione..." Harry said (forgetting his playful manner) and tracing a particularly large bruise on her side with his finger. Hermione, now embarrassed, quickly pulled down her shirt and sat up.

"Hermione, when did all this start? I mean, when did your dad start abusing you and your mum?"

Hermione considered this question for a moment before answering, and when she spoke, she did so slowly.

"Well, I can't really remember, but I'm pretty sure it was when I was six or seven. I do remember it was when my dad came home from a party on Christmas Eve with his friends. How he got home, I have no idea, because him and, from what I saw, every one of his friends were drunk," she finished, not looking at him, as though ashamed at what she had just said.

"So he's been abusing you for _ten years_! What about your mum?"  
"I think the only reason he hurts my mum, is because she's trying to protect me," Hermione said, finally looking at him with tears in her eyes, making them seem glassy and blurred.

Harry didn't know what to say. All these years he'd thought he'd known his best friend (and now she was more than that) and in one day he learns something he never knew. Something he never imagined.

They spent the rest of the night talking, not knowing that, in the next few days, their lives would change forever.

A/N:

I know! Short! The next chapter will be about the same length, then they will get a bit longer again. I know because I finished this story about a year ago, I am just taking my sweet time posting it, so don't bug me about it! TTFN


	7. The Gunshot

I am so so so so so so so so so so so so so so sorry! I know I haven't updated in a really long time, so please forgive me! Remember I own nothing! Enjoy!

**Chapter 7: A Gunshot**

The next few days passed without much trouble, but Harry noticed that Harley seemed to getting angrier. Hermione said that it was just a phase he goes through every once in a while, but she admitted that it hadn't been this bad in a long time.

"I don't get it," she said, while they were washing his truck (he was still making her do chores, and Harry was only too happy to help) one Saturday afternoon, "normally his phases are over by now. I just --"

But her sentence was cut short by the drunken yell of, "Get up, you damned bitch!" from her father, and what sounded suspiciously like a gunshot.

Abandoning their soap and buckets, they ran toward the house, banging open the kitchen door in their haste.

They were greeted by a horrible sight. Harmony had managed pull herself to her feet, but they didn't know how, since her right leg was bleeding badly. They saw why in her father's right hand. A shiny, silver pistol was smoking slightly at the barrel.

Neither of Hermione's parents seemed to have noticed the two teenagers burst into the kitchen. Which Harry thought was good, because, if they did, that might have been Hermione bleeding in front of her father.

Harley cocked the pistol and aimed it directly at his wife's heart. Knowing what was coming, Harry grabbed Hermione's arm and tried to pull her out of harm's way, but she wouldn't move. Harry didn't know why. He certainly didn't want to see this. He gave her arm an all mighty tug as Harley put his finger on the trigger.

Hermione finally moved. She ran back outside with Harry at her heels. She didn't know where to go. Their house was at least five miles from the nearest town, and she was blinded by tears.

Harry grabbed at Hermione's arm again when she started to slow down, but she pulled away. Harry turned and walked back to Hermione, who was now leaning against the mailbox. He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned against his shoulder, trying not to cry, but she couldn't do anything _but_ cry, when they heard the sound they had been waiting for. A gunshot. They were expecting it, but that didn't mean they would react any differently.

Hermione was only aware of Harry, holding her, trying to comfort her. He wasn't saying anything, but his arms were wrapped around her and she was crying into his chest.

Harry was only aware of Hermione, crying into his chest. He blocked out everything around them, only concentrating on comforting her. He didn't trust himself to open his mouth, because he didn't want to start crying, too, so he just ran his hand up and down her back. He felt like he needed to be strong for her. She needed him, and he would never leave her side.

A/N:

So sad! R&R please. I realize this chapter was short. The next one will be a bit longer. TTFN


	8. Call 911

Okay, I promise I'll have this whole story posted by the new year, but, anyway, this chapter is a bit longer then the last two, but I feel it's not that well written. I know it's not the best I've ever done, at any rate (the next chapter is like that as well), but let's just get on with it. Remember, I own nothing.

**Chapter 8: Call 911**

Neither of them knew exactly how long they stood there. All they knew was the sun was setting by the time Hermione pulled herself out of Harry's chest. She looked an awful mess. Her eyes were blotched and red. Her hair was all messed up from running and the humidity in the July air made it even more frizzy.

Harry hadn't said anything since they heard the gunshot, and he didn't know if he could now, but he knew he had to.

"Come on," he said, looking back at the house, which had been unusually silent since the shot, "we need to go get help."

"How?" Hermione said, her voice cracked from crying, "It's at least five miles to the next town."

"Yes, but remember, we're of age. We can use magic, but we might not even need to," Harry said, getting a confused look from Hermione, "Do you have any change?"

Hermione dug in the pockets of her jeans and pulled out a few nickels and dimes (A/N: I don't know British change) mixed with knuts and sickles, and counted it.

"I have 34 cents, 6 knuts, and 4 sickles, which isn't enough for the payphone, anyway," she said, following Harry's gaze to a payphone by the road, about 100 feet away from them, "but I do have a cell-phone."

"Brilliant, Mione," Harry said, kissing her forehead, which made a light pink blush work its way up her neck and onto her face. Harry took his wand out and pointed it at the house. After making sure there were no Muggles around, he said clearly, "_Accio cell-phone_!"

After a minute, Hermione's flip-phone flew out her open window and into his hand. He handed it to Hermione, who pushed it away.

"I can't do it, Harry. You have to," she said, looking away from him and away from the house, which killed her every time she looked at it.

"Why me? I don't even know how to work it," Harry said, making Hermione grab it out of his hand, turn it on, and dial 911.

"There," she said, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes again. This made everything seem so final.

"Hello? Umm," Harry didn't know what to say. Hermione gave an exasperated sigh, and grabbed her phone from Harry.

"Hello? My dad has been abusing me and my mum for about the last ten years, and he just murdered her with a pistol," Hermione really didn't want to do this, but what choice did she have? Tears were poring down her cheeks, but her voice was surprisingly steady, "I'm at 405 285th Street, just west of Oxford. Okay. Thank you," and she hung up.

She looked away from Harry and tried to hide her tears, but was unsuccessful. He walked over to her and once again wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her gently.

"Shhhh," he whispered soothing words to her, his breath tickling her skin. He wiped her tears away with his soft fingers.

A few minutes later they heard sirens and looked up to see three police cars and an ambulance coming toward them. They screeched to a halt and about half a dozen policemen and women came out. One of them walked over to Hermione, who was still wrapped in Harry's arms.

"Are you all right?" she asked Hermione, who nodded. The policewomen nodded, too, and said, "All right. Why don't you go over to the paramedics so they can check you over. Are you her brother?" she asked Harry.

"He's my boyfriend," Hermione said, and Harry was slightly surprised she actually said _boyfriend_, "He's been here for about two weeks, now, helping me."

"All right. You can go with her. I have to go question your father. What's his name?"  
"Harley Granger."

"Okay. Now, you two can head over to the paramedics."

She walked over to about three other policemen, all of whom were holding Hermione's dad, who was fighting them with all his strength and screaming inappropriate words at the top of his lungs.

"Come on, Mione," Harry said, and guided her over to the ambulance where a young paramedic was waiting for them. She had a friendly smile, but at this point the only person Hermione trusted was Harry.

"Hi, are you the young lady who called?" the paramedic asked Hermione.

"Yes," Hermione said, trying to sound as polite as she could through a new wave of tears threatening to emerge.

"It's all right," the paramedic said, consolingly, "Nobody's going to hurt you, anymore. Now, come on. Let's get you cleaned up. Would you mind waiting outside for a moment?" she asked Harry, which made Hermione's grip on his arm even tighter.

Hermione looked at Harry, who nodded, and pried Hermione's hands off his arms. The last thing she wanted to do right now was leave Harry.

"It's all right," he said, and kissed her gently on the forehead again, "I'll be right here, waiting for you."

She let a lone tear roll down her cheek while she turned and walked into the ambulance, only to have the paramedic shut the door behind her.

"Have a seat," the paramedic said, gesturing to the hospital bed in the middle of the ambulance. Hermione sat down and watched as the paramedic slip rubber gloves on, breaking the right one in her frustration, causing Hermione to giggle, despite the tears building up in her eyes.

"I hate these things," the paramedic said, getting another one out and succeeding in getting this one on, then she turned to Hermione, "Now, I'm not going to examine you right away. I just want to ask you a few questions first. Is that all right with you?"  
Hermione nodded, and just thought of Harry, standing outside waiting for her.

"Okay. First if all, what's your name?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Okay. How do you spell it?" The paramedic had gotten a sheet of paper out and was preparing to write down everything Hermione said.

"H-e-r-m-i-o-n-e."

"Okay. How old are you?"

"I'll be eighteen in September."

"When's your birthday? September what?"

"September 19th."

"How long has your dad been abusing you?"

Hermione faltered a little bit on this question, but she calmed herself down by thinking of Harry, and the faster she got these questions answered, the faster she'll be back in his arms.

"About ten years."

"What's the worst thing he's ever done to you?"

"Umm. I'm not really sure. Probably when he broke my leg."

The paramedic looked shocked at this.

"How'd he break your leg?"

"He pushed me down the stairs. When I was twelve."

"Okay. Last question. Where do you go to school?"  
"Oh, umm," Hermione wasn't sure what to say. She couldn't say she went to Hogwarts. That would be breaking the Statue of Secrecy and would get her expelled for sure, so she just made something up, "I go to a boarding school in Scotland. I'm gone for most of the year."

"And what is the name of this boarding school?"

"Umm..."

A/N:

Ha Ha Ha! Evil Cliffie! Sorry, I know you guys don't like cliff hangers, but I just had to do it! TTFN


	9. Back Inside the House

Happy Holidays! I thought I would give a holiday treat to all my readers and post the final two chapters of this apparently beloved story. Have fun reading and remember, I own nothing!

**Chapter 9: Back Inside the House**

"It's a simple question," the paramedic said, "What is the name of the school you go to?"

"Simple question or not," said a voice that Hermione knew only too well, "I'm afraid I cannot allow you to question Miss Granger any further about her school."

The ambulance doors opened and Albus Dumbledore was standing there... in full-length wizard robes.

"Who are you?" the paramedic said in a slightly annoyed voice.

"I am the headmaster of Hermione's school. I am sorry for interrupting your little interrogation, but I am afraid I simply cannot allow you to know the name of the school," Dumbledore said, bowing to the paramedic politely, "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to talk with Miss Granger about her parents."

Hermione had been so happy to see Dumbledore there, but that quickly passed when Dumbledore said that he wanted to talk about her parents. She looked past him at Harry, who smiled and nodded, telling her it was all right. She looked at the paramedic.

"Very well. Hermione, you may go," the paramedic said, now thoroughly annoyed.

Hermione was only too happy to get out of the ambulance and back to Harry. She hopped up off of the bed and climbed out of the ambulance, and straight to Harry, who wrapped his arms around her protectively.

"Come on, you two," Dumbledore said, gesturing to a place away from all the policemen.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked Harry as they followed Dumbledore.

"I don't know. I guess he doesn't want to be overheard," Harry said, his arm still around Hermione's shoulders.

"Okay," Dumbledore said, turning around to talk to Harry and Hermione, "now, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, the current pressing issue is where you are going to stay for the remaining two weeks of summer. I suggest the Leaky Cauldron, but I have owled Molly and Arthur and they have agreed to cut their vacation short if you wish to stay at the Burrow."

"What do you think?" Harry asked Hermione turning to her and taking her hands in his.

"Well, we can't just ask Ron and his family to come home for us," Hermione said, "So, I guess we really have no choice but to stay at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Okay," Harry said, smiling.

"Now, I don't think you would like going back into your house to get your stuff, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, and Hermione looked horrified at the very thought, "so, if you don't mind, Mr. Potter could go get your things for you."

Hermione didn't want to leave Harry's side again, but she didn't want to go inside her house after a murder had taken place there only a few hours before. Her decision shocked everyone.

"I'll go with you, Harry."

"Hermione, are you sure?" Harry asked, taking her hands in his again and rubbing them soothingly.

"Yes, I'm sure. I have to face my fears eventually. Plus, it's way too much for you to carry all by yourself. I'm coming with you."

"Okay," Harry nodded and turned back to Dumbledore, who gestured to the house, telling them to go get their stuff.

While they were walking toward the house, Hermione was beginning to doubt herself. Harry, sensing her fear, reached over and grabbed her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She looked over at him and smiled.

They paused a little as they went into the kitchen. Harry allowed Hermione to close her eyes and take a deep breath, before he pushed open the screen door. The policemen had left while Harry and Hermione were talking with Dumbledore, so the house was eerily empty.

The kitchen was dark, but they could see the blood spots on the white tile floor. Hermione made sure she didn't look at these.

They made their way up to Hermione's room, where their stuff was scattered around. They spent about five minutes picking up the room. Harry noticed that Hermione made careful sure that she had her sketchbooks. She noticed that he made careful sure that he didn't forget something, but he wouldn't tell her what.

"You'll find out soon enough," he said with a teasing grin.

"Fine. Can we get out of here? This place creeps me out now," Hermione said with a small whimper, glancing around the room where she had spent her life in. Harry just laughed and led the way back outside.

There's chapter 9. It's not very well written, but I needed something to happen between chapters 8 and 10.


	10. Will You?

You know, I almost hate to see this end, but I guess it must. This is my favorite chapter, and I really hope you like it.

**Chapter 10: Will you?**

For the next week, Harry and Hermione only left their room in the Leaky Cauldron to buy their school supplies for their last year at Hogwarts. Hermione said she didn't want to be around a lot of people yet. Harry understood. He didn't want to force her to talk if she didn't want to.

With a week to go before term started, they were just sitting around their room reading (Harry was reading _Quidditch Through The Ages_ and Hermione was reading a Muggle book called _Chicken Soup for the Depressed Teenager's Soul_) when there was a knock on the door. Harry got up to answer it, but before he got to the door, it opened.

"How you're guys doing?" Ron Weasley said, standing in the doorway, his trademark red hair standing out like a beacon.

"We're good," Harry said, "How're you doing?"

"I'm good. How are you, Hermione? I heard about your mum. Are you okay?"  
"I'm fine," Hermione said.

"Then what's with the book?" Ron said, smiling at the fact that he was right (for once).

Hermione blushed and tried to hide the book from her friend's view, causing Harry to laugh.

"She's fine," he said, shooting a playful grin her way, "or at least she will be."  
"I'm fine, guys, really," Hermione said, standing up to join her friend and her boyfriend, "and what do you mean "or at least she will be"?"

Harry just shrugged.

"Don't give me that! You still haven't told me what you made so sure to save from my house!"

"Do you really want to know?" Harry asked, his eyes flashing playfully.

"Yes!"

"Fine," he said and he walked over to his trunk, dug through it for a minute, extracted something, which he put in his pocket, and walked back over to a confused Ron and an exasperated Hermione.

"Well?" she said,

Harry looked at Ron, before pulling Hermione into a deep, passionate kiss.

"What was that for?" Hermione asked, happy that Harry had kissed her, but now just as confused as Ron.

"I just wanted to see if it had that same spark it did three weeks ago. Don't worry. It does," Harry's voice was getting constricted, and Hermione had the feeling he had wanted to tell her this for a long time, which made her even more curious.

Everything was cleared up in a minute. Hermione's breath caught in her throat when Harry dropped to one knee. _Could he be doing what I think he's doing?_ He could. Out of his pocket he pulled a small, velvet-covered, box, and when he opened it, inside was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. It was 24 karat gold, and had a ruby set into it, making it the colors of Gryffindor. Harry cleared his throat.

"You know I love you, Hermione. I have loved you since fifth year, and that thing with Cho, just forget that. It was nothing. I didn't feel the spark then that I feel now when I kiss you. So, Hermione Jane Granger, will you do me the honor of becoming Hermione Jane Potter?"

Hermione let out the breath she had been holding in a scream. A very loud, happy scream. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Harry in a constricting hug.

"You know I will, Harry," she said through her tears, "Of course I will. Thank you."

Harry hugged Hermione back and, once again, pulled her into a very deep, very passionate kiss. Hermione pushed on Harry's shoulders so he ended up laying on his back with Hermione on top of him, but they didn't break their kiss once.

A few seconds later, people appeared in the doorway. Lots of people. Ron's whole family (minus Bill and Charlie) had come up to see what Hermione had screamed about. The two finally broke their kiss and Harry opened his eyes to see the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Hermione's big, brown eyes were sparkling with happiness and she looked like her smile was permanently plastered to her face.

However, the perfect picture was ruined when Ron's face appeared behind Hermione's, and they both realized what this must look like. Hermione got up off of Harry and helped him up, but he dropped down to one knee once again. This time, he reached up and grabbed her left hand.

"The perfect ring for the Queen of Gryffindor," he whispered as he placed it on her finger.

She didn't care that they had an audience. She dropped down and kissed him like she had never kissed before.

That kiss, on that day, seemed to seal their futures. They didn't care what horrors lurked in their pasts. As long as they were together in the future.

Eventually (as in about five minutes later) they broke the kiss, each of them gasping for breath. Everyone applauded. Mrs. Weasley was even crying, but not as bad Hermione. Harry reached up and dried the tears off her face as they stood up.

"Okay, show's over, people!" Ron said, herding his family out of the room. Harry and Hermione looked up at him, plainly telling him to leave, too.

He didn't really want to, but he did, just to make them happy.

As soon as the door closed, Hermione was on top of Harry again (she had pushed him down onto the bed), but she didn't kiss him, yet.

"Thank you," she whispered, "for everything."

_Then_ she kissed him.

(Again)

The End

Once again, Happy Holidays from me to you. I do have an idea for a sequel, but it will probably be a while before I post anything. TTFN


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